


put your hands on my body just like you think you know me

by kattyshack



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Zombie Apocalypse, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Demisexuality, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, Exploration, F/M, Falling In Love, First Time, Hand Jobs, Making Out, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Romance, Sexual Content, Virginity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-09
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23556457
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kattyshack/pseuds/kattyshack
Summary: “First time for everything, right?” Beth says and, yeah, Daryl might know better than anyone how truethatshit is.(work + chapter titles from “peer pressure,” by james bay)
Relationships: Daryl Dixon/Beth Greene
Comments: 38
Kudos: 115





	1. you’re dancing around on my mind every second

**Author's Note:**

> a/n: this is a fic i’ve wanted to write pretty much since i started bethyl a few months ago, and i’ve finally come up with a format i’m really quite happy with. it contains themes all across the board that are very important to me personally and in regards to this pairing, so suffice it to say this is going to be one of the projects that winds up most near and dear to my heart. i hope you can all find some resonance with it as well. 💛

“How’s it looking, son?”

“Ain’t bad.” Daryl plants his heel into the dusty ground of the driveway, rolls the creeper out from under the car. Sits up, swipes the rag from his back pocket to wipe his hands. “Wanna work on it a few more days ‘fore I let her drive it.”

Hershel smiles. “She’ll be thrilled about that,” he says, in a tone that indicates she really won’t be.

“Yeah, well.” Daryl snorts. He knows how Beth can get when she wants somethin’, so he knows she’s gonna ride his ass ‘til he gets her car ready to go. He looks across the yard to where she’s tiring out his dog, who he brought along just ‘cause he knows she likes the dumb mutt so much. “Tell her to be patient or ‘m gonna sell the thing for parts ‘stead of fixin’ it for her.”

That gets a chuckle outta the man. “I think I’ll leave that particular argument between the two of you.”

Daryl snorts again, fishes his cigarettes from his rolled shirtsleeve and packs ‘em against his grease-stained palm. “Yeah, I’ll make sure to kick her ass so she don’t come whinin’ to you ‘bout it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl catches Hershel’s mouth ticked up into a fond sort of smile. Most of his own attention is preoccupied with watching Beth, though, as she pitches another tennis ball for Dog to go chasin’ after. The muscle in her bicep flexes, and then she laughs when Dog takes a tumble through the grass; the sound cuts clear through the humid afternoon air and sets Daryl’s ears to tinglin’.

She tugs at the hem of her shorts, kicks one booted foot up to catch the ball Dog’s just come back with and dropped in front of her. Tosses it and laughs some more when he trips on his oversized paws and somersaults over it again. Daryl don’t know that dogs got the presence of mind to really think shit through, but all the same he’s pretty sure his fuckin’ mutt’s only doing it to make her smile.

But, hey, he ain’t no stranger to wantin’ to do the same thing, is he?

He snaps out of it, sorta, when Hershel clears his throat. It’s not _pointed_ or nothin’, Daryl don’t think, but just in case, he tears his eyes off Beth and fixes them on his squashed pack of Marlboros. Ain’t half as pretty as she is but, then again, what the hell is?

He plucks one out of the box and sticks it between his teeth — not to smoke it, just to have something to chew on that’s not any of his dirty fingernails.

“Think I’ll call it a day,” he mutters around the filter. “Gotta pick up a couple parts, anyway. I’ll bring ‘em by tomorrow.”

“What do I owe you?”

Daryl shakes his head. “She’s, uh. She’s a good girl.” He digs his heels into the dirt. “Don’t gotta pay me to do her favors.”

“I’m sure Bethy appreciates it. Actually, you know” — Hershel chuckles — “when you first started coming by to help out around here a few years back, I think she had a bit of a crush on you.”

She — fuckin’ _what_ now?

Daryl’s gotta dig his heels a little deeper into the ground, otherwise he’d go rolling backwards on the creeper and bust his skull against the car. Gotta bite down on his cigarette, too; good thing he’s got one in his mouth, or else he might’ve bitten his tongue clean in half instead.

Either one of those might’ve done him some good, though. Maybe would’ve knocked some goddamn sense into his suddenly senseless head. It’s just…

Christ. Had he really gone four-odd years without knowin’ Beth had a damn _crush_ on him? Yeah, so she would’ve been somethin’ like sixteen when it started out, but if it had legs at all like his own fuckin’ feelings have turned out, then maybe she — maybe she still —

_Fuck._

Hershel must mistake his silence for confusion and not the full-blown panic attack it’s workin’ up to be, because now he’s tryna explain it away like Daryl’s bothered by it. He guesses the heat in his face probably suggests as much, only _bothered_ wouldn’t be his word choice here, not by a long shot.

“It sounds strange, maybe,” Hershel allows and, yeah, that’s another word for it, “but I think it was good for her. It was the first time she felt… _normal_ , I’d say, after we lost her momma and Shawn.”

Daryl don’t know what to say to that, either, so he keeps his lips clamped tight around his Marlboro. The filter’s gone damp, well on its way to soggy. Ain’t gonna be able to actually smoke the damn thing at this rate, the way he’s working it over as he thinks about Beth and — well. Doesn’t really need anything else; just Beth’s always been enough to fuck him up. 

“Well.” Hershel offers him a smile. “Don’t go saying anything to Beth, now. She’d bite my head off if she knew I’d gone and told you something like that.”

“Uh-huh.” Daryl tips the cigarette outta his mouth, sticks it behind his ear. His throat’s too dry to light up; probably’d hack up a lung if he tried. “D’you, uh — listen, it ain’t like I was waitin’ around thinkin’ she might, but —”

Ah, fuck. But _what_? Daryl ain’t ever been much of a talker, but he’s usually a right side better than _this_ , or at least he is with Hershel. Man’s got a way of putting you at ease. Not so much when you wanna ask his permission to take out his daughter sorta outta the blue, though, Daryl figures, and he’s really got a _lotta_ nerve to ask at all, but if Beth liked him once, maybe she still could, and he just — doesn’t wanna miss out. He could pretend he doesn’t give a shit about what Hershel just told him, but Daryl’s no liar, and he’d wanna kick his own ass later, besides.

His gaze flits back across the yard. Beth’s gone and wiped his dog the fuck out, by the looks of it; they’re laying side-by-side in the grass, tennis ball forgotten. She’s got her eyes shut against the glare of the sun, but then she tilts her head and blinks them open. Catches his eye, grins, and in the next second she pulls a face and sticks her tongue out at him.

 _Smartass._ Daryl huffs a quiet laugh, and flips her off before remembering that her daddy’s standing over his shoulder.

“Sorry,” he mumbles. Kinda forget he’d been talking to him in the first place. “I, uh —”

“Want to take my daughter on a date,” Hershel supplies, which… Well. At least he didn’t make Daryl say it.

His ears heat up, but he clears his throat best he can. “Yes, sir.”

“Hm.” Hershel seems to consider it. Looks back and forth between them for a minute — a fuckin’ _agonizing_ minute, but — then he’s smiling again, in that calm way’a his, so Daryl doesn’t think he’s about to get shot, at least. “Well. I suppose you’d better ask her, then.”

Oh. That was easy. Relatively painless, even. He blinks. “You, uh. You alright with that?”

Another chortle. Daryl don’t know what’s so damn funny, and Hershel doesn’t try to walk him through it, neither. Just claps a hand on his shoulder and tells him, “You’re a good man, Daryl. If Beth’s alright with it, then so am I. I don’t know that rude hand gestures are the way to go about things, but” — he tilts his head, thoughtful-like — “what’s an old man know about these things, anyway?”

“Right. Uh. Sorry ‘bout that,” Daryl says again. Not like it’s the first time he’d given Beth the finger, and she never seemed to care none, but, yeah. Might wanna avoid doin’ shit like that when her daddy’s around.

He doesn’t stick around too much longer, though, not once Beth’s up on her feet and heading towards them. Daryl almost wishes he would, ‘cause he really don’t know his next move here and he could use the buffer, but — too late. Hershel’s giving him a parting pat and he’s on his way back to the farmhouse before Daryl can straighten up off the creeper.

He gets on his feet quick enough, just not as quick as Hershel managed his getaway. Old man’s faster than he thought, damn.

“Hey, Daryl,” Beth says now that she’s sidled on up to him. She smells like sweat and sunscreen and suddenly Daryl’s feelin’ pretty good about being alone with her. “How’s my baby doin’?”

Her —? Oh. Daryl blinks, coughs, tries to shake it off — fat chance of that, ain’t no way he’s gonna be able to shake the idea of Beth callin’ him _baby_ , and since when is he even _into_ that shit? — and taps the driver’s side door.

“Be alright,” he says. His throat’s all dry again. “Should be good to go in a couple weeks.”

As expected, Beth’s pretty mouth pushes into a pout, and she turns those big blue eyes on him like she’s gonna get him to work any faster if she looks at him like _that_ , when really all it’s gonna goddamn do is make him weak-kneed useless.

“A couple _weeks_?” she echoes. “C’mon, how ‘bout a couple days?”

He squints at her. “You even got your license yet?”

“Nah.” Beth pats the car’s T-top fondly, like she’s scratching between Dog’s ears. “But I need somethin’ to practice on.”

“Ain’t practicin’ on it ‘til I’m done. Thing’s a death trap.”

Alright, so that’s a little on the _exaggerated_ side, but it don’t matter none ‘cause Daryl’s not about to let her behind the wheel of this thing any which way just yet.

“It was cheap, too,” she adds, like it’s somethin’ to be proud of. She grins at him. “And I got you to fix it up for me, don’t I?”

“Guess you do.”

Beth hums, and skates her fingertips over the front window. “And it’s blue.”

Yeah, no shit. “So?”

“I like blue.”

Daryl frowns. “Thought your favorite color was yellow.”

“Every color’s my favorite,” she says, like he ought to know that. And, fine, he probably should, but he’s also pretty sure she’s just tryna be a pain in the ass right now.

So he scoffs, says, “That don’t make no damn sense.”

“ _You_ don’t make no damn sense.”

“Girl, Jesus.” Screw the dry throat; he plucks the cigarette from behind his ear and flicks his lighter at the tip. He needs somethin’ else to focus on that ain’t the sunburn on Beth’s bare shoulders. “Gonna drive me outta my damn mind.”

 _“Ugh.”_ Beth wrinkles her nose, nudges him in the side with the back of her hand when he takes a pull off the damp filter. “Smoking’s bad for you, y’know.”

“Yeah, so’s you pissin’ me off.”

“Hm. S’cuse me for _caring_.”

“You tell me this shit ev’ry goddamn day,” Daryl reminds her, though she doesn’t need it. Girl always knows exactly what she’s up to. “Think you just like bein’ annoyin’.”

“Not my fault you’re so grouchy.” Beth turns to face him fully, arms crossed, hip bumped against her car. “Besides, if you die, who’s gonna grump at me to get my oil changed?”

“Shouldn’t need someone _grumpin’_ at you to get a damn oil change.”

“Who’s gonna do it for me for free, then?”

Daryl raises his eyebrows, gives her a little bit of a once-over before he catches himself at it and looks quickly away. Stares at the tops of his worn work boots and sucks on his cigarette, but winds up saying what’s on his mind, too.

“Wear them shorts to the garage, you won’t have to pay for nothin’,” he mumbles. Glances her way for a second before he goes back to his boots. “Couple guys there probably’d give you their own damn cars.”

He doesn’t mention that he’d be one of them, or the fact he’d right-hook anyone else who tried, or so much as looked at her twice the way he does. Some of the guys are alright, but Daryl hears ‘em talk and he knows what they’re after whenever a nice-lookin’ girl comes in. It’s why he prefers to make house calls for Beth, truth be told, but he’s never told _her_ that.

Never told her she’s the first person he’s even _started_ to feel like that about, either. Like he actually sorta gets what the guys at the garage are talkin’ about when they’re bullshitting around about girls — but it doesn’t feel like _bullshit_ , not with Beth.

But, y’know. No shit he’s never told her that. Hasn’t even asked her for a date yet, Jesus.

“Oh, c’mon.” Beth giggles some, prods at his boot with the toe of hers. “Don’t think my farmer’s tan’s all that appealing.”

Yeah, right. Daryl could laugh — not gonna, ‘cause it’s not _funny_ so much as it is painful for him to look at her. Thinks he’s got her tan lines memorized about as well as he does her freckles, and _appealing_ ’s just one of the words that comes to mind when he thinks about ‘em. And he thinks about ‘em a _lot_.

“Hmph.” Daryl exhales a stream of smoke before turning his head to look at her again. “If that’s what you think, I guess.”

Beth’s cheeks are pink, and they go brighter when she smiles at him. “Well, Mr. Dixon, I bet none’a those guys’d be half as good at sweet-talkin’ me as you are, so what’s the point?”

It’s harder not to laugh this time, but he thinks he pulls it off okay when he hides it in a last hit off his Marlboro. “Shut the hell up.”

“See, there it is.”

“You’re fuckin’ nuts.”

 _She_ laughs, ‘cause Beth ain’t ever been one to try not to, and somehow he’s got a way of makin’ her smile. Daryl’s mouth twitches as he stubs out his cigarette and tucks the dead end of it in his pocket, or else Beth’s gonna give him shit about _littering_.

 _Christ_ , but does he like this girl.

“Hey, uh.” He shoves his hands in his pockets to keep himself from chewing at his nail beds. Hard not to, especially with what he wants to ask her on the tip of his tongue like it is. “I’m ‘bout done for the day, so d’you — maybe wanna go get somethin’ to eat?”

It takes her a second to answer. Daryl sneaks another look at her, finds her blinking like she’s surprised, or like she looked straight at the sun. Funny, ‘cause that’s how he usually feels when he’s looked at _her_ too long.

“With you?” she asks.

He pulls a hand free to scrub at the back of his neck, which’s gone hot as all hell. “Dunno how else you’d get anywhere.”

“Right. Yeah. Um.” Beth presses her lips together, not like she’s pouting this time, though. Nah, her cheeks bunch up like she’s biting back a smile. “You wanna go right now?”

“If you want.”

“Daryl.” She rolls her eyes a little, kinda like she’s laughing at him but not in a bad way. “What do _you_ want?”

Huh. Ain’t nobody usually asks him that, so he shrugs. Scratches his temple. “Could eat.”

“Okay.” Damn, that smile’s gonna knock him on his ass for real one’a these days. Doesn’t even think he’d mind it.

“You drive,” Beth continues. Pushes off her car and rolls her eyes at him again. “I don’t got my _license_. Unless” — she brightens up a bit, the way she does whenever she’s gearin’ up to annoy the hell outta him — “you wanna let me practice on your truck?”

He snorts, fishes out his keys and leads the way to his pickup. “Hell no.”

“Worth a try,” Beth sighs, and skips a little to keep up with his longer strides.

He pulls down the tailgate, whistles for Dog to get off his lazy ass and hop in. He does so without any trouble, thank god. Wouldn’t’ve been the first time Daryl had to pick him up and cart him around, but he’s already covered in sweat and grime. Last thing he wants is to smell like dog when he’s takin’ Beth out someplace.

When Dog’s settled in, Daryl locks the tailgate back in place, frowning slightly as he wipes his hands on his jeans. Maybe he should’ve thought this through a little better, but he’d kinda been wingin’ it since Hershel spilled Beth’s adolescent secret. Truth is, he’s been thinkin’ about doing something like this for a good while now, just he couldn’t work up the nerve. So he supposes it ain’t no wonder he just went with it, soon as he had the barest hint that it might work out for him.

Whatever. His hands are a damn mess and he’s just gonna have to deal with it now.

Beth’s waiting for him by the driver’s side, leaning back against the door, arms and ankles crossed, grinnin’ at him like she’s about to say somethin’ she damn well _knows_ is stupid.

“What?” she says, all innocence, when he narrows his eyes at her. “My door’s locked.”

“Coulda opened it for you.” Daryl clicks the _unlock_ button on his keyring now, reaches behind her for the handle. “Didn’t hafta go gettin’ in my way.”

“Please.” Beth tugs at the end of his shirt, and it kinda feels like she’s tuggin’ at somethin’ deep in his gut, too, when she does that. “Think you could pitch me halfway across the farm if I was annoyin’ you that bad.”

“Prob’ly could,” Daryl agrees. “An’ don’t think I won’t.”

He _won’t_ , that’d be fuckin’ insane, but he’s not thinking all that straight right now, anyhow. She smells too damn good, all sweet and a little salty and like she’d slathered herself in coconut oil. He wonders if she tastes like it, too, and he ain’t _ever_ wondered shit like that before Beth, no fucking duh his head’s such a damn mess.

Shit, when’d he get so close to her? Those farmer’s tan thighs are practically straddling one of his. Fucking. _Lord._

“Uh-huh.” Beth steps a little closer into his personal space, presumably so he can get the door open but he thinks she must be messin’ with him, too, ‘specially when she doesn’t let go of his shirt. “You got me shakin’ in my boots, Mr. Dixon, sir.”

“That so?” Daryl thinks he’s handling this alright, but he swallows convulsively when Beth’s knuckles brush his bare abdomen and, yeah, he just blew that whole act in one full-body shudder. “Best get your ass in my truck, then.”

“Yes, sir,” she says, in tones of bullshit seriousness, and she gives him a little salute ‘cause she’s an asshole. Girl knows it, too, with that smirk on her face that makes him wanna —

Well. He don’t know what, exactly. Just that it makes him… _wanna_.

Whatever the hell it is, he’ll just have to figure out what to do with it later, ‘cause Beth’s hopped up into the driver’s seat now. She sticks out her hand and wriggles her fingers. “Keys?”

“Told you, hell no.” Daryl slaps her thigh — not hard, just enough that her muscle jumps, enough to make his palm itch like it wants to keep on touching her. “Move your ass.”

Beth makes that same disgruntled noise she did earlier when he lit up a smoke, but she does as she’s told so he can get behind the wheel. When he clips the door shut, the whole cab smells like her sunscreen, and if it wasn’t a hundred damn degrees outside, he’d keep the windows rolled up so he could smell that all the time.

He starts up the truck, and Dog gives an eager bark from the back when the engine rumbles. He glances Beth’s way. “You ready?”

She kicks her feet up on the dashboard, and ignores him when he tries to smack her calf down. Just plucks his sunglasses from the cup holder and slides them over her eyes.

“For just about anything,” she tells him, and snaps her fingers. “C’mon, Jeeves, I ain’t got all day.”

“I’ll show you fuckin’ _Jeeves_ ,” Daryl mutters as he braces his hand on her headrest and backs outta the drive, but Beth just laughs. Go fuckin’ figure. “Getcha damn feet off my dash.”

“Daryl,” Beth sighs, all long-suffering and shit, as she flicks through her phone for music he’s probably gonna hate but let her plug in, anyway, “what’d I say about all that sweet-talk, huh? You’re gonna give me the vapors. I’ll be ill for _weeks_.”

“Yeah?” Daryl side-eyes her as he takes a turn onto the backroads. “Think it’ll make you shut the hell up for a couple weeks, too?”

“Maybe. I mean, hey” — she shrugs, and one corner of her lips quirk up in that smirk again — “first time for everything, right?”

His mouth twitches some, too, even when she puts on that bubblegum country pop that drives him up the wall, and not half so good as the way Beth does it. But she likes it, so he leaves it alone.

 _First time for everything._ Yeah — he casts her another look — yeah, he guesses that’s true.


	2. maybe i’m scared, i don’t care, i’m addicted

When Daryl pulls the truck into the end of the line at the diner’s drive-thru, he guesses the look he gives Beth is kinda… _sheepish_ , which oughta piss him off, but he’s already pissed at himself that he’s gotta lowball her with a four-ninety-nine burger and fries they gotta eat in the car.

So. Whatever.

“Sorry ‘bout this,” he says, as he eases the truck towards the intercom. “I jus’ don’t wanna leave Dog out on his own if I don’t gotta.”

Beth returns his look with a puzzled one. Or the slight frown makes her _look_ puzzled, anyway, but she’s still wearing his sunglasses so he can’t read nothin’ in her eyes. “That’s okay. I can eat in a truck same as I can at a table.”

“Guess so.” He kneads at the steering wheel. Thinks his palms might be sweating enough to wash off all those grease stains, after all. “Listen, I —”

“I think it’s nice. Sweet of you,” Beth interrupts him. Just as well, ‘cause he didn’t know what the hell he was gonna say next, anyhow, and now she’s gone and called him _sweet_ and he don’t even remember his damn name no more. “I wouldn’t wanna leave him by himself, either.”

Daryl’s ears go hot. Beth grins at him. “Knock that shit off,” he grumbles, and cranks down his window all the way once he’s pulled up to the intercom.

The mic crackles. “Welcome to Rhee’s, be with you in just a second.”

That’s fine, ‘cause Daryl still needs a second to decide what he’s gonna do here. Probably makin’ a bigger deal outta it than he needs to be — and that’s gonna drive him nuts when he thinks about it later, if he messes shit up and has to trace it back to the when and how — but he don’t do this shit, not ever, and he don’t want Beth to be some sorta trial run.

He rubs an agitated thumb along the cracked leather of the steering wheel. “Could take a drive by my place, drop ‘im off.”

“Nah, look how happy he is.” Beth turns towards the back window and, yeah, Dog’s got his head tilted back, ears flopping in the breeze, tongue lolling out. “You can’t leave him inside all day, you’ll hurt his feelings.”

Yeah, she _would_ think like that, wouldn’t she? “S’a damn dog.”

“He’s got _feelings_ , Daryl.”

“Ain’t gonna remember it t’morrow.”

“ _I_ will,” Beth says, like that settles it and, okay, it pretty much does. “We’re stayin’ right here.”

Even if he wanted to, Daryl doesn’t have the opportunity to argue that, because the mic cracks with static again.

“Thanks for waiting! What can I get you?”

He can’t argue, but still, Daryl’s looking at Beth just in case. “You sure?”

She rolls her eyes — girl’s always doin’ that shit — and unclicks her seatbelt so she can slide across the bench seat to his side, lean across him and talk into the speaker.

“Hey, Glenn!”

“Oh, hey, Beth.” The chipper tone of voice drops some, but not a whole lot ‘cause Glenn’s a fuckin’ chipper kinda guy in general, customer service or no. “Maggie with you?”

“Nah, just me an’ Daryl.”

“Oh, cool. Hey, man!”

“Hey, Rhee,” Daryl says — _croaks_ , because Beth’s bare thigh is pressed tight to his and, swear to god, he can feel how sun-warmed her skin is even through the layer of denim separating them.

He’s pretty sure Beth and Glenn keep talking — must be, he’s gotta take their order and all — but Daryl’s only half-listening. Actually, even _half_ -listening might be real fuckin’ generous, ‘cause he went stock-still soon as Beth leaned over him. He’s used to her touching him, used to her getting close — but he ain’t used to it when he’s got her alone, when she’s in the cab of his truck smellin’ all sweet like she does, frizzy tendrils of hair tickling his cheek.

He closes his eyes, takes a breath, but — fuck. No, that just went and plugged up his nostrils with that sunscreen scent, and whatever floral stuff she uses in her hair that makes his nose kinda itch, even as he wants to bury it in the thick recesses of her ponytail and smell fuck-all else for the rest of his sorry life.

Shit shit shit shit _shit_ —

“Daryl?” Beth’s knuckles prod his midsection. “First window, c’mon.”

“Huh? Oh. Shit.” Daryl leans on the gas a little when Beth leans back. Doesn’t go all the way over to her seat, but at least she’s not pressed up on him now and he can actually _think_ some. “We, uh” — he frowns, brow furrowed — “we ordered?”

“Well, I did.” He’s not looking at her now, _can’t_ , but he hears that smile lighting up her voice. “Two number fours, two Cokes, and one for Dog.”

‘Course she did. Daryl snorts. “How’d you know that?”

“I know what you like to eat, Daryl. You’re not exactly a man of mystery. Besides,” Beth continues before he can make some smartass remark about that, “d’you remember the last time you came over for supper and you thought I grilled those burgers?”

That was maybe, what, six months ago by now, but he _does_ remember. “Yeah…”

She shrugs. Points at the side of the diner. “Glenn made ‘em and dropped ‘em off.”

“That right?” Daryl’s not entirely sure why she’s telling him this. “He know you were takin’ credit for that?”

“It was his idea. He said — um.” She takes a moment. Long enough that Daryl looks at her, sees her cheeks gone all pink like they’d done earlier. She tucks a few loose hairs behind her ears before she keeps it up.

“He said good food’s the best way to get to someone’s” — she takes a deep inhale — “y’know. _Heart._ And he said I’m a pretty good cook, but he got Maggie to go out with him after he made her just one’a them barbecue rub burgers, so he figured I could use the help.”

Hold up. Wait. Is she sayin’ —

Alright, so Daryl remembers when he came by for dinner, he remembers thinkin’ Beth cooked and that it was _good_ , only he couldn’t really say what any of it was or what it tasted like, ‘cause his memory’s full-up on Beth in bare feet and a pretty cornflower blue dress.

But if she’s sayin’ what he thinks she is, then he really, _really_ shoulda been paying closer attention, and a hundred percent absolutely will he be kickin’ his own ass over this ‘til he knocks all the stupid outta himself.

He makes himself keep looking at her. Don’t matter how _embarrassed_ or whatever the fuck he is, he’s gotta _know_. “Beth —”

But she was already talking. Still talking, faster than usual. “Hey, Daryl?”

He swallows. “Yeah?”

“Is this a date?”

“Uh.” Shit. Hadn’t he said that? Or — no. No, ‘course he fuckin’ didn’t, even though it’s what he goddamn _meant_.

His hands on the wheel are shaking some, so he flexes them, holds on a little tighter, and he tells her past that nervous lump in his throat, “Yeah, that’s what I — yeah. That alright?”

“Yeah.” She pushes his sunglasses up into her hair, so she can hit him with the full force of that crinkle-eyed smile. “I was hopin’ you’d say that.”

A sharp, relieved breath rushes outta him, like he’d been holding it since they got in the car together. He guesses it’s kinda felt that way, but he’s been too wound-up over doin’ this right that _breathing_ didn’t really factor in. Shit’s _involuntary_ , so why should it, only he probably shoulda noticed that pang in his chest.

Oh, well. If Beth’s the way he goes… Well. That’s just the way he goes.

His mouth’s twitching when he pulls up to the window, and Beth must notice ‘cause she’s got that smug little grin goin’ like she does whenever she gets her way.

“Quit lookin’ at me like that, damn,” he mutters.

Beth’s laughing when Glenn slides the window open, and now _that_ asshole’s smirkin’ at him, too.

Daryl flips him off by way of greeting. “Nice hairnet.”

“Nice manners,” Glenn snarks back. Jesus, him and Beth are cut from the same cloth and now Daryl’s gotta deal with ‘em both at once.

Glenn ducks his head to get a better look inside the truck, so he can ask Beth, “This how he talks to you?”

“Nah. Never told me I had a nice anything, so actually I think you’re doin’ better than me.”

Daryl’s ears go hot, and he glances over at her when Glenn pops back inside to grab their order. “I ain’t ever told you nothin’ nice, huh?”

Beth shrugs. She doesn’t seem too bothered by it. “Not exactly. I mean, you did just tell me this’s a date.”

“Hmph.” Yeah, he did, but that ain’t the same, is it? He chews on the inside of his cheek and pulps the steering wheel some more. “Thought a lotta nice things ‘bout you, I guess.”

“Oh, yeah?” Fuck, he can _hear_ that smile; thing’s really gonna kick his ass today. “Like what?”

“Ain’t tellin’ you.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Beth prods him in the side again, and he lightly smacks her hand away.

“Nah-uh.” Daryl counts out bills to hand over to Glenn, determinedly not looking at Beth even though he’s sure she can see how red his ears have gotten. “Gonna need a few beers in me ‘fore I start tellin’ you that shit.”

“I don’t even wanna know what you guys are talking about,” Glenn says as he hands over their bags.

“Good, ‘cause I ain’t tellin’ you, neither.”

“Always a pleasure, man.” Glenn gives them a little two-finger wave. “See you later.”

“Bye, Glenn!” Beth calls out the window, then frowns at Daryl as he pulls the truck out of the lot. Not much of a real frown, mind; nah, Daryl knows how she looks when she’s mad, and this ain’t it. Kinda looks like she’s tryna not to laugh. “Now what’s the point of tellin’ me you think nice things about me if you’re not gonna tell me what they _are_?”

“Getcha feet off my dash.”

“If I do, will you tell me?”

Daryl huffs. Reaches over to try to smack her leg down again, but she don’t budge and he didn’t really expect her to. Her skin’s warm, like she’s still soakin’ up the sun like she was when she was all laid out in the lawn next to his dog, and he was looking at her like he had somethin’ worth hoping for with this girl, after all.

His hand must linger a little too long — not to mention what he said about those shorts of hers when they were back at the house — ‘cause —

“Is one’a those nice things you think about me my legs?”

“Christ.” Daryl gets both hands back on the wheel, not so much because he wants to, but he can’t exactly go feeling her up if he doesn’t wanna run them off the road. But she _did_ ask, so… “Yeah. Guess they are.”

Beth laughs, this high, pretty thing that gets snatched outta her cracked-open window by the breeze. Daryl takes another look at her in time to see her stuff a handful of fries into her mouth, muffling the rest of that giggle. It’s kinda in her eyes, though, too, which he can tell since she’s still got his sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

She looks good like that, leaned back in his passenger seat with those halfway-to-sunburnt legs kicked up and her messed-up hair curling around his cheap plastic sunglasses. Pretty sure she’d look good just about any which way, but so far Daryl thinks this is his favorite.

“That’ll do for now,” Beth tells him, “but, y’know, I’m gonna wanna hear some more if you keep takin’ me out on dates.”

“Yeah, bet you would.” And he’ll probably tell her, too, once he figures out how the hell to do that without making an idiot of himself. “You let me know if givin’ you the damn _vapors_ is gonna shut you up, an’ then maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Got yourself a deal, there, Mr. Dixon,” Beth agrees. She grins like she’s won somethin’ — and, yeah, he guesses she has — and drops his sunglasses back over her eyes. “Where to next?”

Daryl shrugs. He hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Wherever you tell me to drive, I guess.”

“So I’m in charge now, huh?” ‘Course _that_ shit makes her smile. “I like the sound of that.”

“You fuckin’ would.” Daryl snorts, and, alright — this time, when she laughs, he does a little bit, too.

* * *

The day’s winding down by the time they end up back at the farmhouse. Dusk’s settling over the fields, and the temperature’s dropped to something a little more pleasant, though still humid enough to keep up a good sweat.

Daryl hadn’t had much in the way of a plan when he’d asked Beth if she wanted to get somethin’ to eat — must be what he gets for flying by the dumbass seat of his pants — but he doesn’t think he did too bad. She’s been smiling most of the day, anyway, and he thinks that’s as good a measure as anything else for how things went.

Her feet are up on the dashboard again. Girl never bothered to take ‘em down, only now they’re bare and her calves are caked with mud. Her boots are worse off, damp and smelly and sprawled in the footwell. Kinda like Dog, who’s damp and smelly and sprawled on a towel in the truck bed, ‘cause he’d gone runnin’ off when they’d let him out for a walk on the trail, and Beth’d been the one to chase him down. They both came back a damn mess, but at least Dog’s wiped out cold; probably won’t wake Daryl up at two in the damn mornin’ to go out like usual, so he can’t complain too much.

Beth wriggles her toes. They’re painted bright blue. “Still got nice things to think about my legs?”

Christ, she’s never gonna let him live that one down. Daryl side-eyes her as he puts the truck in park, cuts the engine, then turns to look at her full-on so he can answer her smartass question.

“Couple things, yeah.” He leans in a bit, just close enough to scrape off a particularly dry streak of mud that’s riding the line of muscle in her calf. “Been lookin’ at the damn things long enough, y’could get ‘em stuck in a cement block an’ I’d still know how good they look.”

It’s not near dark enough for Beth not to notice the heat that rises in his cheeks when he says so. But he figures he owes her, since she only got dirtied up ‘cause of _his_ dumb mutt, and if this is the shit she wants to hear… Well, it’s like he said — he’s got plenty of it shored up.

Beth whistles. “See, I knew you wanted to tell me.”

“Knock it off.” Daryl squeezes her knee, thumb smoothing over a spot she must’ve missed shaving ‘cause there’s still a prickle of peach fuzz there. He circles it a couple times before he pulls back into his own personal space. “C’mon, let’s get you back up to the house.”

He doesn’t want to, thinks he could spend the whole night with her out in his truck, but it’s getting late and while Beth might be too old for a curfew, Daryl’s not gonna try Hershel’s patience by keeping his daughter out ‘til all hours. The man gave his blessing and Daryl’s not lookin’ to get that revoked.

Beth’s got her door open by the time he walks around to her side, muddy boots already kicked out onto the dusty driveway. He grips the door handle to hold it steady, and catches up Beth’s hand in his free one to help her hop down.

She’s a couple inches shorter without her boots on. Has to crane her neck up to smile at him when he shuts the door behind her.

“Thanks.” Her fingers lace with his, palms pressed together, and Daryl’s just gotta hope his don’t feel as sweaty to her as they do to him. “So, um. You wanna walk me up?”

“Yeah, uh…” His fingers flex around hers, like he needs to hold her tighter to ground himself here, even if that means getting her slick with his sweat. Her hand’s soft for the most part, but it’s got its rough patches, too. “Jus’ — hold up a minute.”

“Okay.” Beth squeezes his hand when his fingers shake. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” he says again. His throat clicks when he swallows. “Yeah, s’fine, I jus’. Wanna talk to you a sec.”

A little crease forms between Beth’s eyebrows. She’s not frowning, just looks a little confused, but she nods. Holds his hand. She’s giving him space to get his shit together, and maybe he’s fuckin’ nuts but Daryl’s pretty sure he loves that about her. It’s just…

He’s never been any good at this — hell, he hasn’t even _tried_ , hasn’t cared enough to, but this is Beth and all a sudden he _cares_ , and he’d like to think he’s gotten pretty good at her.

And he’s pretty sure, he _thinks_ , that maybe… Maybe she wants him to kiss her.

 _Maybe._ But that’s a stupid, dangerous thing to assume, and though Daryl can let himself get away with all sorts of stupid, dangerous things with Beth inside his own head, he can’t just go acting on ‘em soon as he thinks it might be okay. _Maybe_ is a best case scenario here. The rest of it’s bullshit, and he doesn’t wanna be responsible for that. Doesn’t wanna be the one who fucks this up just ‘cause he acted stupid and dangerous all on a goddamn whim.

He’s had a lot of time to think about this, see, and he’s thought the thing to fuckin’ death. And yet, fucking _somehow_ , he’s never come up with a way to do this right.

So _maybe_ she wants him to kiss her. And he _knows_ that’s what he wants to do, but that’s sorta a problem all on its own.

Ain’t no way for Beth to know that, though. Ain’t no way for her to know that, if he chickened out and didn’t kiss her, it’s not ‘cause he doesn’t want to. If he wants her to know that shit, then he’s gonna have to tell her, or he’s gonna mess this thing up before it’s even got started.

He rubs his thumb up and down along the curve of her hand. Shuffles a foot forward without really thinking about it, ‘til he’s so close that he can feel her warm breath skate through the scruff on his jaw.

“Beth.” Her name’s more of a breath than an actual word when he says it, like his throat’s too dry. He swallows again. “I gotta — listen, I ain’t — I ain’t never done this before.”

“What?” Beth tilts her head, like she’s confused, and maybe a little bit like she wants him to just go for it. “Kissin’?”

Okay. Alright. So that _is_ what she wanted. And here he is, wantin’ it, too, and not able to do a damn thing about it because —

“Not, uh. Not really.” Another rush of breath leaves him, half relieved to have said it and half scared shitless that she don’t wanna hear it. “Tried it, a couple times, but I jus’… never really wanted to. Never liked it, I guess. So then I never really —” Ah, fuck. Fuck Jesus Christ fucking _fuck_. “Never done nothin’ else, neither.”

There’s a beat of silence. Daryl’s been talking to their clasped hands this whole time, and he’s got a moment to wonder if it’d be easier to look at her disappointed eyes, or to watch her disentangle their fingers so she don’t gotta touch him no more.

He decides that both would fuckin’ suck, so he averts his gaze to the tops of his boots instead. Beth’s bright blue toes curl into the dirt.

“Oh,” she says. Goddamn, her breath feels good on his skin. “So you mean —”

“ _Nothin’_ , Beth.”

“Oh.”

“‘M sorry.” Christ. Been sayin’ that a lot today, hasn’t he?

At that, Beth’s free hand chucks him under the chin, makes him look up at her instead of the ground. She _is_ frowning now, only not like she’s upset, just still confused. Must be it, because then she asks him, “What for?”

“I’unno.” For not being able to give her what she might want? That sounds kinda heavy, but it ain’t really wrong, is it?

Beth must disagree, though. She’s shaking her head like she can read his mind and she don’t like what’s on it.

“Hey, that’s alright, Daryl,” she says, like she means it. Her fingertips caress his cheek, rasping through his stubble while her thumb smooths along the space beneath his chin. “We don’t gotta do anything you don’t want.”

He huffs, kinda laughing, kinda not. “Think I’m s’posed to be the one tellin’ you that.”

“Well, I’m tellin’ _you_ ,” Beth says, all matter-of-fact like that’s that. Girl’s gonna get her way even if she’s gotta make that way up. “I like spendin’ time with you. We don’t gotta do anything else.”

Okay. Yeah, Daryl should’ve known that’s what she’d say, ‘cause that’s the sort of person she is. Part of why he likes her so much, right?

But that’s the thing. He _likes her_ , and he ain’t never been able to say that about anyone before. Not like this, anyway. And that’s flipped his whole world goddamn upside-down, like he don’t recognize any of these new parts of himself he’s found ‘cause of her, but he wants to know what they are. He wants to give her that.

 _We don’t gotta do anything else._ But —

“I, uh.” Jesus, how many times is he gonna have to swallow these nerves before they quit jumpin’ up? “I wanna, though. With you.”

Beth blinks, but then her eyes crinkle at the corners. “You do?”

He ducks his head, and she lets him. Keeps up the stroke of her fingertips over his face as he nods. “Jus’ don’t wanna fuck it up, s’all.”

“You’re not gonna. You’re _not_ ,” Beth insists when he scoffs. “We don’t gotta rush. I told you, I just — I like bein’ with you. I ain’t in any hurry. We can start real slow, okay?”

Slow. Yeah, he can do slow, ‘cause he just likes bein’ with her, too.

“Alright,” Daryl says. More than, but it’s still hard to unstick his throat and he ain’t got much worth sayin’ just yet, anyhow.

The hand holding hers moves up to her wrist, where he can feel the thrum of her pulse against his touch. Wouldn’t be able to tell if he was holding her other hand, where she’s got all them bracelets stacked up. He knows why they’re there, but he hopes she’ll let him touch that scar one’a these days, ‘cause he knows she thinks it’s ugly, same as he thinks a lot of shit about himself is.

But if she’s gonna be sweet to him, he wants to be sweet to her just the same.

“Okay.” Beth’s still smiling, but there’s a nervous twitch to it now, like maybe she’s gotta swallow some of her own nerves, too. “Do you, um. Do you wanna kiss me?”

Another nod. Jerky this time, eager, like he’d be trippin’ over his feet if he was tryna walk somewhere. He’s not, though; ain’t goin’ anywhere unless Beth’s gonna be there, too.

“Okay,” she says again. Deep breath. “Okay, good. Me too.”

She sweeps her hand over his cheek once more, gives his hand another squeeze with her other one, before she takes them both away. Just for a second, because then she’s tucking her fingers into his belt loops, nudging him a little closer so that he’s pressed against her and she’s got her back straight to the passenger side door. She rears up on her bare toes so she can reach his face — so she can reach his _mouth_ , only that’s not what she goes for right away.

Her lips land on his cheek, where she’d brushed her fingers and he’d leaned into her touch. He leans into it this time, too. Her lip balm sticks in his scruff and smells like cherries, and when her breath ghosts his mouth it tastes like the Coke she’d drank earlier.

Once on his cheek, then twice. Daryl tilts his face to urge her closer, ‘cause his gut’s all tangled up in knots and he don’t think he’s gonna be able to breathe again unless it’s straight into her mouth.

Her lips stick to the corner of his. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” His nose bumps hers when he keeps on nodding. His fingers spread over her abdomen, curl around her hips and fucking _clutch_. “Yeah, Beth, c’mon —”

The words rush out on that breath he didn’t think he could get out, all choked-up and hoarse but it’s _out_ now, ‘cause Beth catches it between her lips when Daryl’s mouth closes over hers.

And, Jesus. Just. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, ain’t no wonder he’s never wanted this before Beth, ‘cause he can’t imagine how he’s ever so much as tried this with anyone else. Their lips cling, parting a little wider every time they press together, ‘til he can push his tongue into her mouth and she _sighs_ , surprised but like she wants it, and he _wants her_ to have it, every goddamn piece of it, what the hell’s the point of any of this if he’s not givin’ _all of it_ to Beth?

Maybe he should’ve given it to her softer. Slower, sweeter, _somethin’_. But he doesn’t _do_ this shit, he just wants to do it _with Beth_ , so now that he’s got her he can’t fucking do anything that’s not showing her how much that is, how bad he wants her, every way and all the time.

He’s never goddamn felt like this before. Shouldn’t he show her how fuckin’ nuts this is for him?

Seems like Beth likes it, anyway. _Really_ likes it, what with the way she’s touching him. She clenches her fingers in his belt loops, tugs him close as she can get him, ‘til her legs are straddling one of his thighs same as earlier, except now he’s got his tongue in her mouth so _that’s_ new. Probably gettin’ that dirt on her legs all over his jeans, but like he gives a fuck. Girl can do whatever she wants to him so long as she keeps suckin’ on his lower lip like that.

Daryl don’t know heads or tails about how this is s’posed to work — Merle talks a big game about all sorts of shit, but he always says some bullshit about how kissing’s for romance novels and he’s got better things to do — but he can tell they’re being sloppy about it. Daryl’s licking into her mouth like it’s a jug of water and he’s got the mother of all hangovers, and Beth’s lapping up every one of his needling, half-frustrated groans, ‘cause he can’t goddamn get enough of her and he don’t know how to get _more_.

Beth gets it, though, and she angles her head to take it deeper, to sweep her tongue over his and _give him_ more. One of his hands releases her hip to cup her jaw instead, to sneak his thumb between their chins and coax her lips farther apart. He’s pretty sure he’s slobbering all over her, but Beth’s whining into his mouth like she likes it, twisting her hands into his shirtfront like she’d rip it off if she had him alone somewhere.

Right now, in the middle of her driveway, ain’t really the time or place to start that shit up. Nobody’d be able to see them if they looked out from the farmhouse, not with the way he’s got the truck parked, but, still. They gotta draw the line somewhere.

But Beth’s not trying to get his clothes off — good thing, ‘cause he probably wouldn’t tell her to stop — she’s just trying to get him as up in her personal space as they can manage. Daryl ain’t gonna tell her to stop that, neither; hell no, he just pushes his body into hers like she wants, gets her back digging into the side of his truck so hard she’s probably gonna have _Ford_ embedded in her spine by the time they’re through.

“Daryl.” Her voice comes out cracked, and he’s panting heavily into her jaw as he tries to catch his breath for just a second. “Daryl, would you — I want you to touch me, if you want to.”

Oh, _Christ_ , yeah, he wants to. Wants to get his hands all over her. He doesn’t say it out loud, but he whimpers like a wounded animal into her hair and he figures that says it all.

He licks his lips, tastes her ChapStick on them. “Where?”

Beth doesn’t say, but she takes hold of his wrists and guides his hands to the front of her shirt. The front, not underneath, which works for him ‘cause he’s pretty sure he’d go off like a damn bottle rocket if he shoved his hands up into her bra right now. Over her shirt he can do — there’s two layers of cotton separating him from her bare tits, and that’s enough to keep his upstairs brain functioning over his downstairs one.

Sure, it’s a close call when he gropes her breasts and she moans like he’s doing it right. He must be doing okay, at least, because Beth would tell him if she didn’t like it. That shoots a streak of confidence through him, so he circles his thumbs over her nipples with a little more deliberation, mouths at her delicate jawline like she’s made of goddamn sugar and he’s got a sweet tooth he just can’t fucking satisfy.

“Can I, um —” Whatever Beth was gonna ask him breaks off on a sharp sigh when he licks behind her ear. But then she leans back in, parts her lips over his hammering pulse point, too, _fuck_. “This okay?”

“Yeah.” He nods, bumping her chin as he tracks his mouth down her neck to her low-slung shirt collar, lapping up patches of dry, salty sweat as he goes. “Can do whatever y’want with me, Beth. Want you to.”

Fuck, he’s outta his mind for this girl.

“‘M I” — he tries to pause, tries to get it together for a second, but he’s breathing her in and she’s kissing his neck and he just, he _can’t —_ “this alright? Doin’ it like you want?”

He moves his hands a little tighter over her chest, a little clumsy and a lot eager. He rubs his thumbs over her nipples again, makes her hips arch and — _shit_ — he muffles a round of curses into one long hard _suck_ on her neck when her inseam ruts against his. Damn, she’s gotta feel that. Gotta know how hard she makes him.

 _“Yes,”_ she gasps, _groans_ it. “God, Daryl, makin’ me feel so good, jeez —”

Oh, fuck. He knew he was getting hard, could feel that blood rush every time Beth’s lips puckered over his, every time her fingers speared through his hair, but hearing her put words to it’s got him _acutely aware_ of how tight his dick’s pressed up to his zipper. Dammit, she can’t go fuckin’ talkin’ to him like that and expect him to keep this shit up, she _can’t_.

Daryl moves his mouth back to hers, catches another one of her moans on his tongue and swallows it down. Slow this time, nice and easy, as he slips his hands up from her tits to hold her face. Like she’s made of spun glass this time and he doesn’t wanna break her.

Beth follows his lead — the fact he’s takin’ the lead at all must’ve tipped her off that he just had to fuckin’ stop before he went off in his jeans, she drives him that up the damn wall — kissing him back slow and measured, winding it down as she circles her fingers around his wrists to hold him to her.

“Sorry, I’m sorry,” she mumbles between kisses. “Gosh, Daryl, I just — I told you we’d go slow and then I just _pounced_ at you —”

“Fuckin’ do that shit anytime you want,” Daryl tells her, murmuring the reassurance as he plucks, still sorta sloppy, at her swollen lips with his. He’s not sure if he’ll get much better at this, especially with her meeting his unpracticed kisses with eager ones of her own. 

But. Y’know. He’s willing to work that shit out with her. 

His fingers twitch against her face, then catch in the ends of her hair. “Don’t gotta be sorry, girl, I ain’t mad. Jus’ don’t wanna lose it in your fuckin’ driveway.”

Her giggle tastes sweet when it breaks apart on his tongue. “Got any special ideas where you’d prefer to lose it, d’you?”

Daryl leans back — not far, just enough to scowl at that fuckin’ smirk she’s got on her face again, but close enough he could kiss it clean off her if she starts pissin’ him off. “Think you’re fuckin’ funny, huh?”

“Sorry,” she says again and, to her credit, she looks it. She thumbs at his bottom lip. “That came out worse than I meant it to. Kinda sounded like some creep at the bar, didn’t I?”

“Nah.” Daryl shakes his head, purses his lips against her thumb to kiss it. “Think Merle’s picked up girls with worse lines ‘n that.”

That gets another giggle. Daryl leans in to taste that one, too, tells her, “You can talk to me however you want. Ain’t gonna be mad about that shit, neither. Jus’ gonna have to gimme a minute when y’do it.”

The sun’s started to set by now, but Daryl can see the pink flare up in Beth’s cheeks. Looks pretty on her. Can feel it in his own, too, so at least they’re on the same page here.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” She presses her lips together, like she’s tryna chase the taste of him there. Doesn’t make it much easier for him to ignore the twitch of his cock, but he tracks the tip of her tongue as it sweeps her lower lip, anyway. Fuck it, right?

“But, um. Do you wanna — do this again? Not just — _this_ ,” Beth adds, and tugs at one of the buttons on his shirt to make her point. “We can do whatever, I just. Wanna know if — if you wanna.”

“I wanna.” He skates his own thumb over her mouth this time. It’s kinda hard to say this shit, kinda painful as he tears it outta his chest, but it’s the only way this’s gonna work, and Daryl wants to make it _work_. “I gotta do some overtime at the shop this week, but, uh. Be over when I can.”

He cards his fingers through her ponytail, much as to soothe her as himself. He likes her hair, likes the way she tosses it up and ties braids into it most’a the time. Could spend a whole damn day just runnin’ his hands through it if she let him.

“Gonna bring those parts by t’morrow,” he continues. Beth hums, eyes fluttering shut while he pets her. “Maybe work on your car some more, if you wanna come out. ‘S your damn death trap, anyway.”

“Mm-huh.” Beth hooks two fingers in his collar, reels him in, and he goes right along with her. Ain’t like he was gonna put up a fight over that. “I’ll hand you your tools, but you gotta kiss me every time you ask for a wrench.”

The corners of Daryl’s mouth twitch, just like his hands, one in her hair and one on her hip. She shifts a little closer and he knows she can feel it. 

“Which wrench?”

“Any of ‘em.”

Well, there’s at least three different ones he’s gotta use pretty regularly on Beth’s car so far, so…

“Sounds fair,” Daryl agrees, and he slicks his mouth over Beth’s before she can hit him with that smartass grin again.


End file.
